


True Sorrow

by zero_kun



Series: So messed up [2]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe- David Adopts Max, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, BDSM, Child Abuse, Daddy Kink, Dark, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Pedophilia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Shota, Starvation, Stockholm Syndrome, Suicide, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 15:04:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14547345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zero_kun/pseuds/zero_kun
Summary: It's a dark and stormy night, just like at the beginning of all those cheerful fairy tales you've read as a child. However this tale is far from whimsical and joyful, there is no happy ending here only pain. An endless deluge of suffering and anguish. A unrelenting sorrow that permeates the body, down deep into your very soul.





	True Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a continuation of Daniel's in the details, set several months to a year in the future. I know some details don'ts makes sense but just roll with it. This is just meant to be really dark and I think I've accomplished that.

     Max looked out the barred bedroom window as rain battered against it, a habit he was all too familiar with. Mild thunder rolled in the distance, echoing, as Max’s eyes stared out with hopelessness, waiting for a flash, and then counting the seconds.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Fou-”

    _BOOM!_ A loud rumble of thunder rattled the pane of glass in front of the boy. This was a rare happenstance of entertainment in Max's sad life. As he was being held captive by his adopted father, in this room, which felt more like a torture chamber.  He was trapped in his room destined to endure yet another day in his waking hell.

     Getting off of the window ledge on the far side of the attic, he walks to the middle and looks to the angled wall seeing own reflection. The angled mirror amplifies just how tiny he feels, appearing short and small, a mere shell of a boy, broken and beaten. The many bruises lining his skin are evident even on his darker skin. Many of these bruises are from attempted escapes and many more, still, are hidden under his tattered dirty tank top as well as his sweatpants, both of which hang loosely on his thin frame.

     A car door is slammed shut in the driveway, suddenly, the distinct sound signaling an ingrained response in Max, who strips off his shirt and pants, unburdened by underwear, and rushes to the spare “bed” in the corner of the cramped attic. The plain, old mattress, stained with various bodily fluids, sits on the floor without a frame, sheets, or support of any kind. Used for one purpose, and used well for that purpose.

     Max lays face down on the poor-excuse for a bed, sticking his ass up into the air, braces his face against his forearms, and waits patiently.

     Just as soon as Max had settled into position, he hears footsteps approaching, David's dress shoes always make a unique sound up the stairs. In fact, over time Max had picked up the different shoe sounds and what they meant for him that day. Dress shoes were a bad sign, as usually, David has had a long hard day at work and will want to take out his pent up frustrations on his personal sex slave.

     It is times like these Max wishes for the sounds of sneakers, but alas, David's at the door now. There is a deafeningly quiet pause before he unlocks the three deadbolts, and pushes open the attic door.

     David is pleased to find his little slave in his favorite position, and remarks “Well, well, well looks like you learned your lesson from last week.” Coldly.

      “Yes Daddy.” Max gives no indication of relief, having spared himself a savage beating.

     David's growing erection twitches at his ‘sons’ response.

     Moving to the bed David's knees sink into the soiled mattress on the outer sides of Max's legs. “Good boy, you know I got a promotion today,” David says as he slips off his dark leather belt, “So I'd figured we'd celebrate.” The man loops the belt around the boy’s throat seamlessly.

     Max knows what's coming next.

     As David presses his cock-head against Max's abused entrance, he pulls the belt taunt, heavily restricting his breathing as he thrusts into the well-used hole.

     It’s times like these when Max is happiest, if you can even call it happiness, because every second of oxygen that is robbed from his brain brings him one inch closer to ending this torturous existence, and getting a little taste of release, of freedom. These brushes with death is all he has to look forwards to.

     David continues to pound his slave’s 10 year old boy pussy, his breathing becoming labored and heavy, until he lets out a deep guttural moan, spilling his seed into his fuck-toy.

     As David relinquishes the tight grip on the belt, Max inhales sharply flooding his brain with oxygen and cumming at the same time, his pathetic dribble of semen soaking into the already stained mattress.

     David gets to his feet and looms over his defiled child, “You've been a good boy Max, I think we'll have steak tonight.” He coos, whilst putting his spent cock back in his dress pants.

     Max nods, catching his breath, still reeling from his own orgasm. When he was first brought home he had fought tooth and nail against David, but now he just accepts it, it's easier this way.  No matter how his bruised and malnourished body says otherwise.  He learned this obedience and submissiveness the hard way.  His eyes, once strong and fiery with a fighting spirit, are now hollow and empty. Starvation and daily abuse will do that.

     The pitter patter of the rain hitting the roof once again overtakes the atmosphere as David leaves locking the deadbolts.

Click

Click

Click

     Max sits up, and grips his knees hugging them close to his emaciated chest. The semen dumped into him slowly seeps from his anus. “I've been a good boy…” He says, his voice cracked and tired, “I've been a good boy.” He repeats, rocking back and forth. “I've been a good boy…”

     A few minutes pass before he gathers what little sanity he has left and drags himself over to where he had hastily discarded his clothes, and slowly tugs them back on.

     He returns to the barred window and stares out at the rolling hills, the lights from the distant city dot the horizon.

     Something in inside Max's mind broke after so much abuse. All of his bitterness, hatred and seething rage was replaced by trust, affection, acceptance and love. Now, as much as Max longs for death, he has also grown to trust David and relegated himself to the life David has gifted him.

     A dull pain emanating from Max’s abdomen breaks his stony gaze out the window. It has been almost a full day since his last daily meal.

     David gives him his scraps most days, while other times Max is lucky to get a plate of his own. Those plates usually only have bread, potatoes, and a random vegetable paired with a glass of water. Maybe milk, if David is feeling particularly generous.

     The mentally ravaged boy’s attention soon jumps to the door, his primal instincts are all he has left. So like a trapped animal, Max has grown to be aware of sounds beneath and around him. Right now he hears the slightest shuffling of David’s feet, setting the boy on his guard.

     Max lost his sense of time long ago, but rain had stopped and dusk was approaching as David climbs the stairs leading to the attic.

     David calls out, “Dinner time!” A sick tone of enjoyment and enthusiasm to his words, as he opens up the door while carrying the food. Before David had fully entered, Max had rushed over and excitedly started jumping up for the plate in the taller man's grasp, causing David to raise the plate higher over his head. “What do you say?” David asks, his voice soft and dangerous.

     Max begs, “Can I have it Daddy, please?” pouting his lips and puffing his cheeks with the, well-practiced, expression.

     David lowers the plate, “Of course, here you are, Maxxy.” his eyes gleaming as he watches Max’s face upon revealing the dinner.

     Max takes in the plate of mashed potatoes, green beans and… a treat the scrawny boy hasn't had in over a year. A delicious, well-cooked steak. Max grasps the hot meat with his bare hands, devouring it as fast as his little mouth can consume it, as though David will deny him the privilege of finishing his meal.

     As Max chews on the juicy meat, a tear rolls down the side of his cheek. “Thank you Daddy, I love you.” he says with a sincerity beyond any normal means. Max leans on David next to him on the bed, and continues to scarf down the rest of the food, almost purring as David accepts and returns his affection, embracing him.

     “I know, I love you too Maxxy.” David responds softly, pressing his lips into the boy’s dense unruly black curls. David gently grabs Max's chin turning it towards him, once the boy was finished scarfing his dinner down in record time, and with his other hand he swipes some mashed potatoes from the corner of Max's mouth.

     Max grabs the man's wrist and pulls the index finger into his mouth, his small tongue lapping at the last little bit of food. His turquoise eyes look to David a longing with in them, with the finger licked clean, Max begins to suck on it pulling the digit in and out.

     David gets the hint, “Oh, so you want dessert?” he coos, removing his finger from the warm suckle and bringing his hands to his pants buckle.

     “Yes Daddy, can I have it please?” Max begs, opening his cute little mouth, sticking out his tongue slightly.

     David unzips his fly and pulls his stiffening cock out, waving it at the boy he's trained so eagerly to please him, chuckling silently to himself that even on the bed, Max, has to crane his head upwards just to lick at the adult appendage. The ‘father’ picks Max up, one hand on each ass cheek.

     Max's immediately wraps his short legs around David, as if an automated response, and waits until David places him on a higher window seat. Once settled he starts to suckle David's cock in earnest.

     David closes his eyes letting the feeling of the small tongue roll over his head, and the, harsh but not unpleasant, sensation of the boy’s baby and adult teeth scraping here and there. However, In his bliss something strange starts to permeate the darkness of his closed eyes. The man jolts them open to bright red and blue lights flashing just outside the window he’s currently defiling Max on.

     Max is too enthralled in his duty to notice the rapidly changing scene outside.

     David’s mind shifts from pleasure to panic in an instant. He knew this day would come, he knows someone like him won't last a day in prison. He knows what has to happen, but is disappointed that he didn’t get to reap the benefits of the hard work he’d put into Max, for longer.

     “Max,” David starts, while placing his free hand on Max's shoulder, his other hand is currently occupied by a revolver the man produces from his back pocket. David very slowly presses the gun to his own temple, his breath shallow now, cock still warm in the boy’s soft mouth.

     Max looks up, horrified, at the scene unfolding. His conditioning preventing him from reacting in the way he so desperately wants too. He briefly notices the police lights on David’s belt buckle before the man speaks again his voice wavering.

     “I love you Max.”

     BANG

     Brain and blood fly across the room and David's limp body drops the floor, Max will never forget the sounds of someone’s broken skull bits hitting the wall.

     “DAVID!” Max cries out, sliding off the window sill, grasping at the deceased form of his captor, cradling his body. The young man’s tears fall rapidly, staining David's collar. Max feels an overwhelming sense of loss, like he’s suddenly being held over the open maw of an empty well. The tortured, grief stricken child has to be removed from David's dead body, forcefully. Max was too enthralled in his mourning to even realize that the cops had entered his ‘daddy’s’ home.

     One of the officers kneels, and takes Max’s chin to look him in the eyes. “You’re safe now.”

     Max’s mood shifts dramatically from grief to rage, and he slaps the officer across the face. “Fuck you! I want my Daddy back! I want David back.” His weak, emaciated hand had little impact but the sentiment is all the same. “I want my Daddy back! Bring him back! BRING HIM BACK!” The poor boy was a broken record until his voice gave out, and he was returned to his actual parent’s custody.

     Max living, breathing, body was certainly returned to his family, but his parents didn't get their son back. No. All they received was an empty, shallow, husk. The boy’s witty sarcasm was gone, his feisty comebacks were gone, even his depression was gone. Everything about the boy, everything that once was, was destroyed, gone, nothing was left, and all he could do is exist. David had won, even if he’d died in the process. The boy was destroyed, utterly. On loud, thunderstorm filled nights, like the one where everything Max loved had been ripped from him, you can sometimes still hear him whimpering in his sleep, and calling out for the man he loved. The man he was determined to model himself after, to become, one day.

“Daddy~”

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to check out the first part to see how we got here also thanks for reading.
> 
> Oh! For the sake of knowing could each of my subscriber please comment, I would really like to know who you are so I can send my love your way!
> 
> Want to join the writing group that created this work? It is full of sinful writers called Sin Corps Army Reborn! It is open to everyone! So if you want to pop in and talk to our members and maybe write with us you can! Even if you want to just try it out and you realize the group is not for you that is alright! The link is this https://discord.gg/dYQ5zVa


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